My will is easy to decide
For I have nothing to divide
My kin don't need to weep and moan
Moss does not cling to a rolling stone
My body? oh, if I could choose
I would to ashes it reduce
And let the merry breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow
Perhaps some fading flower then
Would soon rise up and grow green again
This is my last and final will
Good luck to all of you, Joe Hill